


Expectation

by Omicron_The_IceQueen



Series: The Level Workers [13]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-27
Updated: 2013-03-27
Packaged: 2017-12-06 15:44:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/737369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Omicron_The_IceQueen/pseuds/Omicron_The_IceQueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, Primus decides that your life is going a tad too smoothly, and either he or Vector Sigma has to through a kinker into your plans. Drift knows this fact of life all too keenly, but this latest curveball throws him for a loop.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Expectation

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Cyberra](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cyberra/gifts).



Drift came online to find himself alone in his, normally, shared berth. One pale arm reached out to his side, feeling over it then the berth itself as he searched for his bond mate. Since a little while after bonding with Perceptor he found out that he had sired a spark with her. Drift also found out in time that an upside of Perceptor carrying meant that her normally wide awake, cheerful morning-person habits of being up and _awake_ first was coming to a slow stop (however temporary), and that meant more half-awake cuddles in the breems before either of their shifts started.

 

Today though, Perceptor was once again up and out of the warm berth first. The form that had snuck up to curl up at the mech’s feet told Drift that maybe his mate wasn’t here at all. Silver wouldn’t have been daring enough to hop up if Perceptor was still here. Shifting around, Drift used his pede to rub against sided the young cyber-wolf, and heard her shift around to wrap paws around it as she woke up with a playful grumble.

 

Drift yawned and vented out a long sigh as he rolled over onto his back, stretching almost languidly like some big white and red feline. The mech luxuriating in the feeling of being able to relax, such a thing still seemed like an unreal treat to him. Just laying there, not minding his wolf edging up to stretch out along the mech’s side to get her ears scratched.

 

Regarding the ceiling above, the new wrecker tensed, blue optics widening as he realized what the warm pocket in his systems and energy field was. Drift winced, lifting a hand the knock his knuckles against his chest plates.

 

“Blaster?” Drift asked, wondering that he was now so used to feeling the Minibot, or rather mirocon, that he forgot about him. Another knock and growl later Drift was sure Blaster was firmly in recharge still, and puzzled over the question of his partner had been effected by his overloads the night before. Finally, he decided that if Blaster had been truly stressed or hadn’t like being stuck in whatever spot in the swordmech’s systems when Drift first started to heat up in arousal, then Blaster would have let _everyone_ know. That is if he had been conscious at all, once the mini was out Blaster tended to sleep like the stasis-locked.

 

Sitting up, Drift took the time to scrub Silver’s ears before getting up and finished cleaning the berth (evicting the wolf off) and himself. He was already starting a now familiar morning routine of feeding the growing cyber wolf a mix of energon and metal kibble. Then getting energon for himself from the wall dispenser, and over to the wall in the main room that was against the berth room, and now had a new set of hooks imbedded into it above the half desk, half shelf. Drift’s Great Sword rested there with Perceptor’s long sniper rifle. Below on the shelf was his two unsheathed shorter swords, having been cooling over the night from their repairs- Wheeljack was determined to have Drift as fluent in Level Worker’s blade style, not just his (relatively) beginning knowledge of Metallikato.

 

As he ran his hands over the swords, Drift considered the grumbles he had overheard from X=Brawn, having since learned to pay attention to such things from the ranking officers in the Crew. Apparently there was someone that the chief of security and Foreman new that was, if not a master, then an active user of either Metallikato or one of the other styles. From what Drift understood, X-Brawn was considering bring that mech in to teach _him_.

 

The concepts of having first a mate, and then a sparkling soon was hard enough for the former Decepticon, former Neutral to wrap his processers around. But having someone that wasn’t ‘family’ not only looking out for him in anything that wasn’t in a ‘protecting their resources’ way, but genuinely caring enough to help Drift in farthing his skills and the career of _his_ choosing?

 

Yeah... that would take a little longer.

 

For now though, Drift was finding- if slowly, that he _liked_ being a Level Worker, a ‘Wrecker.’

 

Drift shook himself, diverting form checking on his bonding gift from Perceptor to snag some of the fresh energon goodies. He was yelled at by the six legged magneto lizard that guarded said treats the whole way over to the other side of the room. There he check on the small incubator that held, according to Twin Twist and Hound what was a queen-cyber raptor egg. One black fingertip ran down the thin metal shell that was a mottles shades of gold, silver and polished bronze. A natural work of art, and only after getting this did Drift understand why some mechs would painstakingly put the eggs shells back together after the occupant hatched out.

 

His gift though, still had an orn or two until it would start to wiggle around in the shell let alone hatch. Drift had already cleared two full shifts of off duty with X-Brawn to be ready for the hatchling raptor and let it imprint on him. That and he would have more time with his mate.

 

Checking the time, Drift linked up with the Platform’s network looking for security schedules and double checking where he was assigned to work this shift. X-Brawn had a habit of rearranging the ‘rookies’ schedules to keep them on the ends of there pedes, partly in training too as you never know what might happened out side of the platform in the work sites, Drift had already seen mechs were downed by larger wildlife, mostly the bigger hover squid and mecha spiders were the most daring to attack mechs. So X-Brawn wanted his trainees to already be used to changing to another team if needed, and see how well they works with mecha they didn’t know very well.

 

With some time to spare, and seeing that the Soundmaster (the Platform’s head communications officer) was updating new information on the surface, Drift decided to spend his time looking that over instead of showing up early. Anything to delay going back in the maze like obstacle course; determined as he was to find all the flags, Drift wasn’t stupid enough to want punishment before the time. So whistling for Silver to follow, the mech headed out to one of the café like places meant for just for what he was planning.

 

Two decks up, and close enough to the security deck, Drift walked into the café and found a table. Giving Silver one of her favorite (non-squeaky) toys to chew while on under the table while the mech reached for the large data pad in the middle of the table. Still settling and getting used to the strange but welcome sense of peace while he had it, Drift didn’t notice that a green and silver mech was stalking into the café as he checked the newest feeds from the surface.

 

Drift did however almost jump out of his armor as a fist slammed into the table.

 

“Yea slagging Wanker!” Roadbuster snarled, not at all phased as seeing the white rookie almost throwing himself sideways out of the chair, getting tangled in it, the yipping cyber-wolf and another few chairs on the empty table next to his. Staring up in shock at the Foreman that was positively _looming_ over him, with an almost visible aurora from his Datum, showing the mech’s emanations of irritation, and flickers of anger washing through.

 

Drift optics were wide, for he had never been bothered by the Wrecker 'Prime' before, and for each scramble he took backwards, the other mech followed after and a clawed hand reached down and grasped the swordsmech and with Wrecker strength _lifted_ drift up and off his feet. The fact that they were the same size about in height, and that the Foreman still managed to glower down at Drift while holding him up was an impressive feet all on its own.

 

“This is all yea’r fragging fault!” Roadbuster growled, giving Drift a shake.

 

It took two tries for Drift squawk out, “W-what is?”

 

“Almost a full decacycle driving the _WHOLE CREW_! Everyone! All up the walls because of you!” Roadbuster continued, the Master of Subtlety in full rant mode (and only now did Drift understand the title X-Brawn ladled his friend), but a decacycle?

 

The pale mech was starting to understand, and wondered what on Cybertron Perceptor, as the Platform Manager, had done to annoy Roadbuster enough to take it out _him_. “I-“ he started but was cut off again.

 

“We're cutting into construction time to convert the Platform,” The Foreman waved at one and all, and started dragging Drift stumbling behind him as he left the café, “All because _yea_ couldn't wait until the off season to make a sparkling the size of a youngling!”

 

“.....the frag Foreman?” Drift finally got out, “That makes no sense.”

 

“It does when I have to get ready for a young Metrotitan spark now!” Roadbuster shoved Drift into the lift ahead of him to be sure the mech was coming before stabbing a claw at the control to bring them to one of the medical bays, given where they were in the ship it was the main one, Red Alert’s domain in fact.

 

“What are you _talking about_ Roadbuster?” Drift demanded as he stood up, armor plates ruffling and flared for a moment in reaction to feeling Blaster scrabbling for a grip, having been jarred awake but his host-partner’s rough handling, the distressed energy field and almost able to taste the near command signal from their leader. Frightened, Blaster wedged himself in away from moving parts or something too sensitive and stayed very quiet.

 

“I just told yea!” Roadbuster snorted, “I have ta pull half of the crews out right now, and all in a shift to get the platform re-checked, a third of the systems I know have ta be converted- still want to slag Sentinel’s aft too.”

 

“...ah,” Drift barely said that aloud, at least understanding the aggressive ‘grumpy’ part of his leader’s mode. Roadbuster was always like that after dealing with the lest liked of the three Primes. “What does this have to do with Perceptor and me?” he dared ask.

 

“ _Because_ ,” Roadbuster looked at Drift with exoneration, “Yea’re the fragging sire of the Metrotitan spark, so yea’r goin’ down to learn about the core of the Platform.” He snorted and started down the hall once the door to the lift opened. It took five strides before he realized he could only hear his own steps and not a second set. He turned to glared, but quirked an optic ridge up at seeing Drift seemingly frozen in mid step where he started to trail the Foreman. “Well?”

 

Drift stayed rooted to the spot, just staring ahead, slowly focusing as his attention diverted completely inward to the cords of his bond with his mate, ~Perceptor?~

 

~Yes love?~ Perceptor asked as the lift door closed.

 

~Roadbuster just... _what_ is- the sparkling?~ the jumble of thoughts were broken and meshed together oddly. Only because of the bond was his mate able to reach out and look at Drift’s memory of the last bream, in order to sort out what just happened.

 

~Oh, yes,~ Perceptor flooded the bond with smug pride, ~We are having a femme, and she is going to be a Metrotitan class spark, the carrying stage will be longer, but the Platform itself will be alive! Its wonder isn’t it--? Drift? Luv? Drift?~

 

When Roadbuster called the lift back and opened the doors again, he found a very baffled Blaster standing on a collar ridge patting the slake face of Drift, who was on the floor and dark optics staring up. Quiet possible the first time he ever fainted.


End file.
